


In The Shadows

by Jaybeefoxy



Series: Flufftober Prompts 2020 [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AUs, Do Not Translate, Fluff, Flufftober, Flufftober prompts 2020, M/M, One-Shots, Pets, You do not have permission to post to another site, mystrade, mystrade sluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:27:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26764318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaybeefoxy/pseuds/Jaybeefoxy
Summary: Greg brings somebody home.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Flufftober Prompts 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950532
Comments: 12
Kudos: 113





	In The Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> I have decided to do Flufftober this year, to cheer things up. This is my offering for October 1st.
> 
> I know that Bowie's eyes were not the result of Heterochromia, but they still appeared as different colours. Hence the name I have chosen to use. All will become clear as you read.

Mycroft heard the door open somewhat later that Greg had indicated that he would be home. The man was working late again, and moreover, he hadn't texted Mycroft to let him know. He rose to his feet and emerged from behind his desk, bent on berating his partner for the lapse. 

Greg shouldered open the front door, a task made all the more difficult with his arms full. He carried his burden carefully, mentally preparing himself for what he knew would be a ticking off from Mycroft. Security was important, and they were not in the habit of forgetting protocol in that regard. If either of them was running late, they texted the other without fail.

"Mycroft!" Greg shouted, preempting Mycroft's displeasure. "Emergency. Get a blanket will you?"1

"Gregory, are you hurt?" The man's voice was too strong for that, although brief alarm spiked through Mycroft on his way to the door. He grabbed the throw from the couch as he passed. 

"Not me, no. Sorry I was delayed, love. I had no time to call…"

"What on earth are you doing?"

A bedraggled bundle of fur was held securely in his husband's arms. "This fella. A car knocked into him, just as I left work. I got the plates, so I called it in. He's not in great shape, I'm afraid. He disappeared into an alley, and I had to follow him. Made it hard to find him **in the shadows** , he was terrified."

"So that's your reason for being delayed."

"Sorry, love. Had to act quickly."

"It would have been ironic had I been required to call the dogs out," Mycroft huffed. "As it is, no harm done."

"Other than to this fella," Greg said sadly. 

"There's no collar, no ID," Mycroft observed. Long fingers slid under the dog's chin, lifting the face gently. "Ribs are showing, fur is dull…" Mycroft gently pinched the skin. "Dehydrated too." He wrinkled his nose. "Looks, not to mention smells, like he's a stray, but whatever else he needs, he requires a vet as soon as possible."

"Dunno how badly hurt he is. Got knocked pretty badly." Mycroft was already on the phone, speaking quickly. Greg settled the dog, a young cross-breed of some doubtful ancestry, onto the blanket and wrapped him up carefully. He was wet and underfed, a pathetic heap, but the fur was brindled a mix od white, brown and black, and the foxy face was attractive. "S'okay, bud, we'll get you sorted." 

Mycroft rang off and stepped closer. "I have someone on the way. How is our heterochromic friend?" The dog's tongue slid out to lap weakly across the back of Greg's hand. 

"Pardon?" 

"His eyes are different colours, one blue, one brown. Heterochromia."

"Ah, that's what that's called. Well, he's still with us, but not sure for how long."

"Take heart, my dear, Luke will do what he can."

"Who's Luke?"

"My vet."

"Most people go see a doctor."

Mycroft chuckled. "Silly man," he said affectionately. "I have kept pets before. My last cat only died a few years ago. I've always had either a dog or cat, but lately my career meant that cats were easier to keep."

"Never knew that."

"Well, you and I only really got together two years ago. My last cat, Elli, had only just departed this life, and I decided to give it a while before I got a new pet. For one thing, I didn't know if you would be averse."

Greg smiled. "Nah, not me." He stroked the dog's head gently. "Always liked animals, but the job got in the way. Besides, the ex- never wanted any." Greg unfolded the blanket and ran his hands gently over the skinny limbs. He had enough experience in checking humans for broken bones, so he figured a dog couldn't be much different. He had no wish to hurt the animal, but a yelp would tell him where there was damage. 

Sure enough, the dog whimpered when he felt down the right foreleg. There was thankfully no blood, but it could be broken. Anything else would have to await the vet's assessment.

"Why did you bring him here?" Mycroft enquired. 

"Didn't know what else to do, it's late, and I have no idea where the vets are, or even if they'd be open."

"A logical decision," Mycroft agreed. "My vet can liaise with a shelter to take him." He did not miss Greg's reaction to that suggestion, a quiet but telltale flinch. _So, that's the way of it,_ Mycroft thought. "I'm going to make some tea. Shout if you hear the doorbell."

Luke Findlay proved to be a bluff broad-shouldered man in his forties, capable and businesslike. He greeted Mycroft like an old friend and listened as Greg filled him in on what had happened. His assessment of their patient was brief but thorough and he concurred that there may be damage He couldn't see. 

"Looks like there's a break above the right paw," he confirmed. "I'll take him with me now, get him looked at and treated tonight. I'll check if he's chipped as well, but it does look like he's a stray," Luke agreed. "I can get the local shelter to take him when he's recovered. Get him fed up a bit and on some vitamins. Assuming the scan doesn't find anything more serious, he should be okay in a few weeks."

Mycroft had been watching Greg's reaction all through Luke's examination of their houseguest and he knew the signs. His husband had formed an attachment already.

"You'll let us know how he gets on?" Greg asked, hopefully. 

"Sure," Luke agreed. "I'll go get the cage from the back of my car and I'll take him off your hands."

"Yeah, okay…I...thanks." The reluctance in Greg's voice was clear.

Once Luke was out of earshot, Mycroft fixed his gaze on his husband. Greg met his eyes guiltily. 

"Are you sure about this, Gregory?"

Surprise registered in Greg's eyes. Then he laughed, nervously. "Trust you to know what's on my mind," he said, huskily. He reached down to pet the animal again, stroking the foxy face, receiving another lick. "Friendly. Think he knows we're trying to help."

"Highly likely. He looks to be one of the more intelligent of his ilk." Mycroft paused, assessing. "Would you like to keep him?"

"I...truth is, I want to, but…"

"But?"

"Never kept a dog before."

"You can learn."

"Why aren't you trying to dissuade me?"

"Because, he is a rather lovely dog, and...I honestly miss having one around. Besides, I don't doubt we can arrange his care when we are occupied at work, and…"

"And?"

"We are both seriously considering early retirement, are we not. We would have plenty of time to take him on walks, train him, play with him. He could be the catalyst we need to make that final leap, as it were."

Luke arrived back at that moment, looked between the two men, and put his head on one side, curious at the change of mood. "Is there a problem, gents?"

"Not in the least, but I don't think he'll be needing a shelter. Providing he isn't chipped, my husband and I have decided to offer him a home."

Luke nodded. "Well, there's a few hoops to jump through first, but…" he paused. "Knowing you, Mycroft, it won't be difficult."

**000000**

It had been a long week, Mycroft reflected, walking through the arrivals gate of Heathrow, Anthea and their aides in his wake. They had been gone just shy of ten days, and he had resented every minute, despite attending as a concession to overseeing the transition of his duties to his replacement, who would be taking over the majority of his workload in a few weeks time. Mycroft in been in the background as insurance, just in case he had been required to step in. However, he had been certain, and he had been proved correct, that he wouldn't be needed. Anthea was more than capable of stepping into his shoes. 

As they emerged onto the concourse, he was aware that he had a welcoming committee. Greg stood there in his black jeans, black tshirt and leather jacket— _seriously, that man would be the death of_ _him_ —looking so happy to see him. He opened his hand and suddenly there was a flurry of fur dashing the short distance into his arms and a warm tongue making itself felt. _Aside from Gregory, when has anybody been so pleased to see me back,_ Mycroft wondered, trying and failing to wrestle the dog to submission. Suddenly his arms were full of his husband as well as their dog. Greg hugged him hard, Bowie weaving happily around their feet. The name had been Greg's choice. One of his favourite singers, who also had one blue eye, one dark. 

"Come on, both of you, get me home," Mycroft begged. 

"He's missed you," Greg said, happily. "We both have."

"I have the rest of the week off for you to show me how much," Mycroft said. "Right now, I would kill for a correctly made cup of tea. Come on, Bowie, let's go home."

The dog woofed happily, understanding that he was home, his forever home, with these two men who had given each other everything, and still had love to spare for him too. 


End file.
